


John sees, but he does not observe - or does he?

by Tipofmytongue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Happy ending with a twist, Love, M/M, Mycroft's house, New Year's Eve, POV John Watson, Party, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sex at a party, holmescest, listening in, mylock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipofmytongue/pseuds/Tipofmytongue
Summary: John is surprised when he is invited to a New Year Eve's party at Mycroft's house. He finds himself overhearing and witnessing conversations that makes him learn a new truth about Sherlock and his brother.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	John sees, but he does not observe - or does he?

**Author's Note:**

> My third Mylock-story.

Four months had passed since the Sherrinford event and their flat in Baker Street was still under construction. John was still living in the house he’d shared with Mary, and Sherlock had taken up temporarily residence in his brother’s mansion in the outskirts of London. John was pretty sure the sky was about to fall the moment after he’d read the text from Sherlock a week earlier, where the two brothers had invited him for a New Year’s party: 

/Hey John!  
Mycroft and I are hosting a  
New Year’s Eve Party  
Get Rosie a babysitter,  
bring nothing but your happy face  
and come to Ms place at six pm!  
(You remember where he lives, right,  
from the last time we were here… Ha ha ha!)  
See you!  
SH

Sherlock had sounded so happy behind all those words, but then again, Sherrinford had changed them all for the better. John and Sherlock had grown close again, had been solving cases and even Mycroft had texted John a couple of times to ask about his well-being, probably just nursing his conscience, but still, it was a change for the better. 

That was why he now stood in front of the large iron gates, dressed in his grey suit and waiting to be let in to party with Mycroft and Sherlock, however weird that sounded. 

The intercom buzzed.  
“John, what a pleasure. Do come in.” said Mycroft’s voice and the gate opened.  
John walked the short distance from the gate up to the entrance and knocked. The door was opened and there stood both Sherlock and Mycroft, the party hosts. John was shocked to see Mycroft, whom, for the first time as long as John could remember, was not wearing his three-piece suit, but instead plain, but bespoke black trousers and a red shirt which was unbuttoned at the top, revealing small dark chest hairs. In lack of a better word, John would say he looked cool.  
“Welcome, John, to my house, with permission this time.” Mycroft said jokingly and let John inside.  
“Hey John, good to see you! Got a sitter for Rosie then?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes, Harry’s got her this weekend, she’s too young to know what New Year’s Eve is anyway.”  
“Good. Drinks are in the bar. Come, I’ll make you some. Mycroft, take his coat.” Sherlock said, and guided John into the dining room, which was already crowded with people. Wow, John had actually believed it would be him only, but there were Molly, Lestrade and Sherlock and Mycroft’s parents, along with two more people John hadn’t met before.”  
“Hello everyone! John’s here!” Sherlock said and everyone turned to greet him.  
“Those two are friends of Mycroft and me, they’re Danny and Desmond. Come, let’s have a drink.” 

***

John was having a great time. He was seated next to Molly and Lestrade and was chatting away and already drinking fairly. The food was amazing and everyone seemed content, even happy. He looked at Mycroft from time to time, taking in the enormous change the man seemed to have gone through. Not only had he loosened his suit and was wearing casual clothes, he was actually having a laugh, even with his brother. Mycroft and Sherlock were seated at the end of the table, talking with the two strangers John hadn’t met before, and several times Mycroft – and Sherlock for that matter – burst out in pure laughter. Had Sherrinford really made such an impact on them both that they had left behind all their stupid sibling rivalry and started enjoying one another’s company? Well, obviously, here they were, the two most misanthropic people John knew, hosting a party together.  
“Sherlock seemes happy” he suddenly heard Molly say. Oh god, John remembered the awful phone call from Sherrinford where Sherlock had been forced to tell her he loves her. As far as he knew, they hadn’t spoken about it, but Molly had been told the story.  
“Yes, well. Sherrinford changed us. He wanted to save your life, you know. I saw him. It hurt him deeply to do that to you. After the phone call he completely lost his head and destroyed… erhm, furniture and stuff. He really cares about you, you know.”  
“That’s nice of you to say.”  
“And I do too.”  
“Thanks. Cheers.”

After several drinks, John felt the need to use the bathroom.  
“Mycroft, where’s the toilet?”  
“Out in the hallway, but I think there’s a line now actually and Mummy usually takes her sweet time. If you head up the stairs, you know, where you let the clown attack me, you’ll find a bathroom adjacent to my bedroom. You can use that.”  
“Thanks.”

John headed upstairs, passed the creepy portraits and found the master bedroom. He felt like overstepping, but Mycroft had given him permission after all. The atmosphere inside it was cosy, not intimidating like the rest of the house. Silky bedsheets and linens in dark blue were made neatly on the bed – two sets actually, which made John wonder about Mycroft’s extracurricular activities. There were iPhone chargers on both nightstands, so someone other than Mycroft obviously slept here on a regular basis. Was it perhaps Lady Smallwood? John remembered Sherlock had complained about that woman’s interest in his brother. “He can’t be seen walking around with an old lady” he’d remarked and John had to agree on some level. Well, it wasn’t his place to stick his nose in, but still, it fascinated him. In the adherent bathroom he finally found his relief, toilet-wise. It smelled like a flower shop in here. As he washed his hands he noticed two toothbrushes – wow, this relation with whomever was getting serious, then. He had to ask Sherlock about it, Mycroft in a relationship was just too funny not to talk about. No wonder why he had loosened up so much. But why wasn’t Lady Smallwood – or whomever he was dating – here at the party?  
Then he noticed two razors. Obviously razors for men. Oh. It wasn’t Lady Smallwood after all. Mycroft was gay. Not very surprising when he came to think about it. Not very surprising at all. But who was he seeing? Oh, obviously, he was seeing one of the guests downstairs, Desmond or Danny, or whatever Sherlock had said their names where. That was really nice, really nice indeed. Go Mycroft. 

When John came downstairs he heard muffled voices in one of the rooms next to the large hallway. One of them was Sherlock and the other one was Molly. He walked closer to listen, not because he was nosy, but because he hoped they would reconcile and become friends again.  
“… and it's because women are not my area. It has nothing to do with you. Just your… ehm, sex.” Sherlock said.  
“So you’re gay?”  
“Queer as a clockwork orange.”  
“Oh.”  
“But I really like you, Molly. You do matter. I told you before and I still mean that. And not just because you can provide dead bodies for me.”  
“But that woman, that time… on Christmas..?”  
“Oh, you mean Irene Adler? Yes, she was… I don’t know what she was. And I still don’t quite understand it, because I’ve been attracted to men my whole life, and somehow she got under my skin, but really… no.”  
“Oki.”  
“Are we good? More importantly, are we friends?”  
“Always. Maybe this will make it easier to get over you.”  
“It should. And I’m really not that amazing, except my hair, I totally get why you like that.”  
John heard them laugh, then heard fabric touch fabric and he knew the two were hugging. He didn’t know how to feel. He’d always known Sherlock wasn’t interested in women, Irene Adler being the only exception, but it had never occurred to him that he had other sexual interests. And what were the actual odds that both Holmes brothers were gay? Well, he knew people still didn’t know how homosexuality occurred, only that it was as natural as heterosexuality and could be found within all species, but perhaps it was a matter of genetics then. How about Eurus? She was probably above all that, at least now. Wow, this had been a lot of information to process, but still, he was happy Sherlock and Molly had reconciled.  
He walked back into the dining room before they could catch him listening in on their private conversation. 

John kept watching Mycroft for clues as to which one of the two strangers was his new conquest. He seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the one called Desmond, but so did Sherlock, so it really was impossible to say. John was so focused on the Holmes brothers that he barely paid attention to what Lestrade was saying to him. He saw how Sherlock leaned in and whispered something in Mycroft’s ear and once again: Laughing. This was so weird, but so liberating. Holmes killing Holmes, well, sort of, they had at least killed their everlasting bickering and rivalry, John thought. Something good came out of all that nasty business after all. Lestrade and Molly kept talking on each side of him, and then he saw that Mycroft and Sherlock were urged out of their seats by their mother and together with their father the four of them left for the kitchens. Something was up, he could see that on the look on Mycroft’s face.  
John decided to follow them. 

He stopped outside one of the kitchen doors and watched through the small crack in the doorway as discreetly as he could. Sherlock and Mycroft had placed themselves on two barstools adherent to the island in the middle of the room, their mother was standing in front of them, father some steps next to them, silent.  
“What is going on?” John heard their mother ask.  
“What do you mean?” replied Mycroft. Even through the little crack John saw Mycroft was rather tense while Sherlock seemed more relaxed, his long legs crossed and a drink in his hand.  
“First of all, your father and I are invited to a party, and not just a party, but a party hosted by the two of you together! Why haven’t you murdered one another yet?”  
She was asking the same question John had been wondering all night.  
“We grew closer…. After Sherrinford.” Mycroft said quietly.  
“That can’t be the whole story. Mycroft. Sherlock. I’ve been having the most wonderful evening for as long as I can remember. I haven’t heard you two laughing since you were… well, before Victor Trevor… You seem happy! Now. Something is going on and you are going to tell me!”  
John saw that Mycroft and Sherlock looked at one another, but their facial expressions were difficult to see at this distance.  
“Well, Mummy… Father. I guess we should tell you. Please know that we both love you and however you may react upon this, that will not change.”  
“Mycroft. What is going on?!”  
His mother sounded desperate now and John wondered what they were about to tell their parents that could make them react horribly.  
“We… Well… We…” Mycroft stuttered, and then Sherlock took over for him.  
“Mycroft and I are together. As in a relationship. Romantically.”

John’s stomach turned over. What in the actual hell had he just heard? Were Sherlock and Mycroft together? Kissing? Holding hands? Having sex? The razor, the charger, the toothbrush… it had all belonged to Sherlock. Why hadn’t he been told? What the hell?! And what was he really feeling about this? He knew Mycroft and Sherlock were unique, their brains, their skills, their personalities, but still, was this okay? Incest? Really?!

“Yes, we thought as much. And for how long has this been going on?” John heard from the kitchen.  
“Sherrinford made us realise it and then it just… well, four months.” Mycroft said.  
“Four months. You have been together and happy for four months and you didn’t tell us?”  
“What?” Mycroft’s voice was barely audible.  
"If you two think for one second that we would condemn you for making a choice that makes you this happy, you are very much mistaken, boys” she said with a feigned sternness.  
John was shocked. Did their parents actually accept this? What about their father? As if father Holmes had heard John’s thoughts through the crack in the doorway, he spoke for the first time.  
“We have lost a daughter, even though she is still our daughter, she is lost beyond our help. And then there’s you two, who have never seemed able to find meaningful connections in this world. Always thrived on work and little else. But tonight, it’s like we have gotten our sons back. The sons we lost many years ago to repressed tragedies, drugs, estrangements and sorrow. Please forgive me, but I don’t understand how on earth you would want to keep this from us. A parent wants nothing more than to see their children happy.”  
John couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if Mycroft was actually shedding tears and he saw that Sherlock moved his hand to remove a tear from his brother’s… lover’s chin.  
“Boys. We are so happy for you, we truly are” their mother said and embraced them.  
John backed away from his hiding place and headed for the stairs. He needed some space.  
Accepted, just like that, while he, John, was struggling with the idea of it. It seemed so wrong, but then again, who were they hurting? No one. Absolutely no one. But still. 

He found himself entering Mycroft’s bedroom and was suddenly aware that it was also Sherlock’s bedroom. He opened the closet and saw long lines of bespoke three-piece suits, expensive shirts and trousers. But then there were different suits taking over, Sherlock’s characteristic tailored black suits with shirts in different colours. The plum coloured one, the black one, several white ones, brown, green, blue. Sherlock belonged here. 

Then he heard voices outside in the hallway and quickly closed the doors to the closet. He was about to enter the bathroom, but then he saw a door that led to a balcony. He opened it and went outside. It was freezing, but the air felt good. He needed to clear his head.  
Through the dark window in the door he saw Mycroft and Sherlock enter the bedroom, hand in hand. Sherlock closed the door behind him and John heard their voices.  
“I still can’t believe it. That they actually accepted it. Just like that.”  
“Shut up and get down on the bed. I need you now.”  
They kissed with fierce and Sherlock started fumbling with Mycroft’s red shirt.  
“No ripping of shirt, Sherlock. This is Versace.”  
“Stop being so goddamn sexy, then.”  
“What about our guests?”  
“Our guests can manage for three minutes.”  
“Three minutes, little brother?”  
“That’s all I need. Trousers off, please.”  
John saw Mycroft take off his trousers and pants and revealed his long, pale and slightly hairy legs and a large cock. Wow, that was… wow. He should look away. He really should. But this was like watching a house burn or a car crash, it was impossible to look away. Not that this seemed like a catastrophe at all, it was love, it was clearly love, no matter how weird it was in theory.

Mycroft was lying on his back and Sherlock withdrew a bottle from the night stand, probably lubricant and smeared his hands and cock with it. Sherlock hadn’t removed his trousers, simply let his prick out. He also was very well equipped. They were fit for one another, obviously.  
“Two and a half minute left, brother dear.” Mycroft said hoarsely from the bed.  
“Are you questioning my skills, Mycie?”  
“Not at all, merely… impatient.”  
"Ready, my love?”  
“Always, my love.”  
Then Sherlock slowly entered his big brother, seated himself fully so that their bodies were entwined. John heard moaning and gasping that turned into vocal panting as Sherlock started moving faster while his hand was stroking his brother’s hard member. John watched, paralyzed almost, it was so dirty, so sexy, so forbidden and so beautiful. He saw how the brothers loved one another, the caressing, the looks they shared.  
Then they both came, stirring, spasming, together, at the same time. Mycroft squirted all over Sherlock’s hand and both their shirts were messed up by it.  
“Two minutes and fifty three seconds.” Sherlock said with a mockingly proud tone.  
“Impressive, brother dear.”  
Sherlock removed himself from his brother, then went to the closet to fetch them both new shirts to wear.  
Mycroft sat up, removed his red shirt and revealed a beautiful chest. The upper part was slightly hairy and he was fit and slim, but not muscular. A bit like John, except for the dark hairs. He wiped himself with the shirt and put on the new one Sherlock handed him.  
“I need to tell John too, tonight.” Sherlock said. “I can’t keep this just from him.”  
“What about the Detective Inspector?”  
“Yes, him too. Meet me outside and we’ll have some cigars and tell them together, okay?”  
“Okay, little brother.”  
They kissed, a long kiss filled with emotion and love. John could hardly believe that these two – The Ice Man and the Virgin (well, clearly not) – was able to contain all these feelings. It had obviously been there all this time, probably without anyone of them knowing precisely what it was. Until they had faced death together at Sherrinford. Mycroft had wanted to sacrifice himself for Sherlock. Sherlock had wanted to sacrifice himself for Mycroft. And thus their true emotions had been laid out on front of them both, raw and bare.  
“See you outside, I’ll go find John and Greg.”  
“So you do know his name?”  
“Known it all along, it’s only for fun.” Sherlock said and exited the room. Mycroft followed suit shortly after.

John hardly noticed how cold he was. His mind was racing. Sherlock and Mycroft had just had a quicky together, real sex – hot sex. He didn’t even know Sherlock was into sex at all, he had always seemed so asexual, but then again, John may have been judgemental, just like everyone else who took a first glance at Sherlock. But John was his best friend, he should have known better. He had tried though. Asked him about it, but almost always been dismissed. Had it been because Sherlock was unsure about his feelings? 

Then he heard voices underneath him and saw, in the light from the torches outside that Sherlock and Mycroft had gone out.  
“I can’t find John anywhere, perhaps he’s fallen asleep somewhere.” Sherlock said.  
Then they were joined by Lestrade.  
“Cigar, monsieur?” Sherlock said with a feigned formality.  
“Yes, thank you.” Lestrade replied.  
“So, Gordon.”  
“… it’s – “  
“I know, Greg. I’m gonna cut to the chase: Mycroft and I are together, as in romantically together, and I hope you’ll accept it and still be my – our – friend.”  
John leaned further over the balcony to watch Lestrade’s reaction.  
“Are you serious?”  
“Yes.” Sherlock said bluntly. Mycroft stood beside him in silence.  
“For how long?”  
“Some months. But it should have been a life time.”  
Lestrade was silent for a while, John could almost hear the tension in the air, beating like an erratic heart.  
“Well.." Lestrade said after a while. "... as long as you’ll keep solving cases for me and keep inviting me to fantastic parties like these – and keep feeding me expensive cigars, I’ll say congrats.”  
“Really?”  
“Really. I’m sick of having to replace people at the Scotland Yard anyway, due to your… flirtations with them.”  
“Well, that’s in the past, I sure hope.” Mycroft said and they laughed.  
“No, really. Congrats guys. I just hope you’re careful out there.”  
“Oh, I don’t worry, Lestrade, I’m working on having some small changes made, in regards of the law.” Mycroft said and put his hands around Sherlock’s waist.  
“You’re kind of crazy, aren’t you?” Lestrade replied mockingly.  
“Just a fool in love, DI. By the way, speaking of being in love, I have a PA who’s had a slight crush on you ever since she screened your background when you started working with my brother. Her name is Anthea. When you leave tonight, talk to me and I’ll arrange for her to come pick you up. You will not regret it, I promise.”  
“Seriously?”  
“She’s a ten, Greg. Both in brains and looks.” Sherlock said and smiled. 

John was really freezing now and he turned away to go inside. Even Lestrade had accepted it, and he was a man of the law. It would soon be John’s turn to be faced with it, Sherlock seemed determined to tell him tonight, and that was after all something John cherished.  
He walked downstairs and poured himself a glass of whiskey before he sat down next to Molly again. She seemed much more cheerful now. She was smiling broadly at him. Some time later, Lestrade, Mycroft and Sherlock entered the room as well. Sherlock saw John immediately and was about to head over to him when Desmond announced that it was almost midnight.  
“Countdown!” he cried and everyone got up from their seats and gathered around the large clock that was ticking above the bar. John and Molly stood next to one another and on the other side of the crowd, Sherlock and Mycroft held hands discreetly as they watched the arms of the clock move toward 12.  
“TEN-NINE-EIGHT-SEVEN-SIX-FIVE-FOUR-THREE-TWO-ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the room bellowed.  
John watched as Sherlock and Mycroft looked at each other and melted together in a deep, affectionate kiss. Love like this didn’t happen often. He had made up his mind. He was going to accept them, no questions asked. He was going to be Sherlock’s best friend in every manner, starting right now. After all Sherlock had done for John over the years he deserved peace and happiness and he deserved John’s support. As the two brothers broke apart, Sherlock and John’s eyes met. For a moment John saw Sherlock’s uncertainty, but John smiled broadly at him and raised his glass in a gesture that expressed his acceptance and love for his best friend. It was all Sherlock needed and he smiled back with his own glass raised. Two best friends sharing a toast across a room. They would talk about it sometime, sure, but now all John wanted Sherlock to know was that John was onboard. Sherlock was allowed this happiness.  
“They’re sweet, aren’t they?” Molly said in a low voice.  
“Yes, they are.” John replied and smiled at her.  
“Happy New Year, John.”  
When lost of the mask and nervousness she always wore in Sherlock’s proximity, John finally noticed how beautiful she was.  
“Happy New Year, Molly” he said and leaned in and kissed her. And he wondered why the hell he hadn’t done so sooner, because the kiss felt like coming home from a very long journey.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language.


End file.
